Finding Fault in Marble
by messed up stargazer
Summary: One night after Grantaire has entirely too much to drink Enjolras offers to take him home, When they get back to Grantaire's flat, Grantaire passes out, straight onto Enjolras who isn't strong enough to lift him off. He stays there, making sure he doesn't die in his sleep. That night, Enjolras toys with a strange, far-away memory. Useful Platitudes and Skin Contact series. R&R!


As usual, Grantaire was drinking. However, unusually, that wasn't pissing Enjolras off. It was distracting, but Enjolras held his tongue in check. There was a tug in the back of his mind, ordering him to not lash out at the drunkard. His friends were quite happy at this action. Especially Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

"Enjolras, have you gone soft? You have not chastised Grantaire all night." Courfeyrac teased.

"I must admit, you reigned yourself in well tonight. Usually, you're much harsher to him." Combeferre stated.

"I have no right to judge what I know nothing about." Enjolras recited.

But something in his head said he _did._

_Impossible. _I_ speak of my past more often that he does_, Enjolras thought blithely.

"Perhaps he missed Grantaire's voice, as it was missing from the last meeting. I wonder why he was silent last meeting." Courfeyrac mused.

_It must be that, _Enjolras thought, _His silence is more disturbing than his drinking._

"Apollo! You have barely spoken to me tonight! Does this mean you think I'm right?" Grantaire slurred, coming over to them.

"I will never think you're right, my friend. The people will rise. They will come when they are called." Enjolras stated softly.

"The people will never come. They are ruled by fear and resistance." Grantaire spat resentfully.

Knowing the resentment wasn't aimed towards him, Enjolras continued, "Their fear will be nothing compared to their desire to be free."

"People are content being the slaves they are." Grantaire bickered.

"Are you?" Enjolras countered.

Grantaire didn't answer.

"Come, Grantaire, I think it's time we got you home. Can you walk?" Courfeyrac stepped in.

Grantaire shrugged.

"I'll take him home." Enjolras offered.

The entire café went silent.

"What?" Enjolras shouted, indignant.

"You've never offered that before." Courfeyrac said.

"There is a first time for everything." Enjolras argued.

Combeferre put the back of his palm to Enjolras's forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Enjolras swatted him away. "I feel fine."

"Well, I think what Combeferre means is we think the only reason you'd offer is if you have a debilitating disease where you might die any second." Courfeyrac bantered.

"Oh God, are you dying? What do you have? How long do you have? Enjolras, why didn't you tell us? Here, let me see your tongue." Joly grabbed Enjolras's face and pinched his cheeks, as if trying to force out Enjolras's tongue.

"Am I not allowed to help one of my friends? Am I such a cruel leader that when I offer help I am ostracized?" Enjolras mumbled.

The other Amis went silent. Enjolras glared at Joly slightly, who flinched but didn't let go. Rolling his eyes, Enjolras stuck out his tongue before retracting it quickly. Joly glared slightly but released his friend.

"Thank you, my friends. Now that I am allowed to, I wish to merely take Grantaire home and get some sleep. I shall see you all at the next meeting, I presume. Good night, my friends." Enjolras announced.

"Good night Enjolras." They chorused back.

Notice who didn't say a word? He did too.

"Do not be worried if I am not home when you return to our flat, Combeferre. There are some things I wish to do before retiring for the night." Enjolras whispered.

Combeferre nodded. "But if you're not back by dawn, I shall fetch Javert to fetch you and bring you home."

Enjolras smiled. "Javert? Oh my treacherous friend, how you wound me."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Combeferre returned the smile and bid his friend good night.

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's arm, and slung it over his shoulder. Grantaire grabbed his bottle of wine and put it to his lips. Together they started the trip back to Grantaire's flat.

"You never answered my question." Enjolras accused.

"You will not like my answer, Apollo." Grantaire took another swig of his wine.

"Say it anyways." Enjolras commanded.

"No. I am not. But I have no other way of life." Grantaire whispered.

"You can choose." Enjolras said.

"No. _You_ can choose. _I_ cannot. It is much like your sleep-talking." Grantaire slurred.

"I do not talk in my sleep." Enjolras guessed.

"Oh yes you do Apollo. You talk up a storm in your sleep." Grantaire exaggerated.

"Grantaire, how would you know?" Enjolras asked, curious.

"Simple. I always seem to find you. Or you always seem to find me. Whatever you prefer." Grantaire shrugged.

"If you say so." Enjolras dismissed.

"I do Apollo." Grantaire chuckled slightly.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked.

"Nothing. Forget it." Grantaire kept trying to suppress his grin but could not.

His grin was infectious as Enjolras found himself smirking a little.

"Take a left up here and then it's the second star to the right." Grantaire hiccupped.

"You mean building, don't you?" Enjolras thought aloud.

"Perhaps. The sign kind of looks like a star." Grantaire garbled.

And it almost did. It was a four-sided sign but one of the letters had come loose so it looked like the fifth connecting point of a star.

"I see. What floor and what room?" Enjolras asked, hoping his friend didn't live on the top third floor of the building. Grantaire was quite heavy to the much less built revolutionary.

"First floor. My landlady didn't want me falling down the stairs when I drank." Grantaire mumbled.

"Smart woman." Enjolras muttered, dragging his friend inside.

"Very. Here, this is my room. It's unlocked. I never lock it." Grantaire pointed as Enjolras started to search his friend's pockets for keys.

"I see. Dangerous, don't you think, in this neighborhood?" Enjolras asked.

"Perhaps, if I had anything of value. I have nothing but my art supplies and wine. I don't know if I even keep food in here." Grantaire grumbled.

"You should. Death would not suit you." Enjolras remarked, trying to sound as casual as he could.

"Aw, you_ do_ care." Grantaire teased.

"I have never said I did not." Enjolras defended.

Grantaire laughed sharply, in an almost mocking tone. As if he knew something Enjolras didn't. He might've if he was right about the sleep-talking thing. Enjolras sat down on the only piece of furniture in Grantaire's flat, his bed. Grantaire waved his hand and Enjolras scooted over and Grantaire sat beside him. Well, almost. If Grantaire never did anything, it would be place himself on a level plain with Enjolras.

"Do I truly talk in my sleep?" Enjolras asked softly.

"Yes, Apollo. I would never lie to you." Grantaire responded in the same tone.

"What do I say?" Enjolras asked, curious.

But before Grantaire could answer, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed. When Enjolras tried to catch him, and ease him down, Grantaire snuggled into his torso, his body covering most of Enjolras's, Grantaire's arms splashed across them both.

"Grantaire?"

No response.

"Grantaire, please get off of me."

Nothing.

Enjolras squirmed but Grantaire was too heavy. Okay, then. He was well and truly stuck. It was a good thing he told Combeferre not to expect him home until late tonight. He doubted he would be able to free himself quickly. Enjolras tried for ten minutes straight. He barely shifted Grantaire an inch.

"Fine! If you insist, I will stay here! Although I must object vehemently!" Enjolras shouted, trying to see if his friend would awaken.

No dice.

Enjolras huffed and sat there in silence. If he was to remain here, the best thing he could do is make sure Grantaire did not die in his sleep. He remembered his mother often sleeping with his father with one hand over his nose to make sure he still had breath in his body. So he wrangled one arm out from under him, which made him much more comfortable, and gently placed his fingertips underneath Grantaire's nose. He felt Grantaire inhale and exhale. He was safe for the moment.

Did he truly talk in his sleep? That was most embarrassing. He knew nothing of what he said, how could he? He just wished he could remember. As soon as he thought that, a memory edged its way to his consciousness. It had not fully formed but the sight was as clear as the Seine. Only one thing was in focus, Grantaire's face. He looked so lost, so in pain that it hurt Enjolras's heart to even think about it. He hated seeing his friends in pain. Especially Grantaire. Even if Grantaire was just a distraction to the cause, Enjolras admitted to himself sometimes he needed such a distraction. Combeferre couldn't always get his head out of the clouds, as Enjolras could easily bring Combeferre with him up there. Grantaire always grounded him. Even if it was a fall not a descent, Enjolras knew he needed it. Sometimes he just wished it didn't hurt as much when he hit the ground. He wondered if Grantaire felt such pain like that. He knew that expression. Pain beyond Enjolras's imagining.

Suddenly, Enjolras felt his fingers intertwine with Grantaire's messy curls. When he paused, his fingers ached for the touch once more, so he must have done it for a while. He contemplated taking his fingers out, his fingers would readjust but Enjolras looked down. Grantaire looked so blissful, the exact opposite of how he looked in Enjolras's memory, he just couldn't take that away that feeling from him. He was going to find out what made Grantaire look so sad. Even if Grantaire himself stood in his way. So Enjolras kept stroking Grantaire's hair with his free hand and let himself settle into a comfortable position. Grantaire's soothing breathing and the familiar feeling of Grantaire's curls underneath his fingers soon relaxed the revolutionary. Their breathing matched in evenness and soon Enjolras felt himself slipping underneath the sea of sleep.

"_I- I dreamt he was beating my mother once more and then he moved on to me once she died. It's one I have often_." Grantaire had said.

That brought Enjolras back to consciousness quickly, jumping slightly, as if his body had been burnt by the memory. Those words... That night. The nightmare. It all made sense now. Grantaire's abusive father turned him to drink.

His friends and Grantaire especially call him marble without a second thought. He could never be as he felt fresh, hot tears burn at his eyes and streak down his cheeks. He had been so cruel to Grantaire, for what? For believing in something else other than what he preached? He was just as bad as the king he wanted to fight against. He pressed a kiss to Grantaire's head and wiped his eyes on his shoulders. He would be better. He regretted every harsh word he had ever said to the drunkard. He vowed he would be better. He would be the best friend Grantaire ever had. Okay, maybe that was taking it slightly too far, as Grantaire wasn't one for letting people into his life, but he would still try.

Enjolras did not sleep at all that night, if he did; it was only for mere moments. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Grantaire's look of pain and heard those awful words over and over. When dawn crept up, the promise from Combeferre entirely forgotten, Grantaire started to stir.

"Enjolras?" He asked, his voice still husky from his wine sleep.

"It is me, my friend. Could you, perhaps, do me a favor and get off?" Enjolras asked lightly.

Grantaire sprang up and would've fallen backwards if Enjolras had not reached out to grab him.

"I'm so sorry, Enjolras, I didn't mean to-" Grantaire sputtered unwilling to look Enjolras in the eyes.

"It is I who should apologize. I did not mean to startle you, my friend." Enjolras interrupted.

"You're forgiven, Apollo." Grantaire said immediately.

"I am going to the kitchen. I shall see if I can scrounge us some breakfast, that is, if you do not mind me staying." Enjolras offered.

"Not at all, Enjolras. I believe it is the Spanish who say 'My house is yours'." Grantaire accepted almost too quickly.

Enjolras nodded and stood, stretching his stiff muscles. He walked over to the kitchen. Grantaire hadn't been kidding when he said he barely had anything. Enjolras only managed to find one loaf of bread with the tiniest bit of butter. But he found what he truly had been looking for. A chair. It was one of the only things Enjolras found in the tiny flat. A bed, a table and a chair. He wondered why Grantaire lived on so little. Getting on with his improvised plan, he grabbed the chair and shoved it under the doorknob.

"Enjolras, why are you barricading us inside my apartment?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras took a deep breath and said, "We need to talk."

* * *

**I'm just the worst aren't I? Leaving it on such a cliff hanger. Oh well. I can't keep writing the next part if you kill me. *Runs and hides anyways* Reviews make me write faster! Adieu pour l'instant, mes chers dévots**


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